


Beyond the Limits of the Poor Flesh and Breath

by okforthey (MadamMistress)



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alex was gone for 10 years, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Kid Fic, M/M, No Beta, Rating subject to change, Tags Subject to Change, alien biology is whatever I say it is, these boys are dumb in similar ways but i am dumb in a different way so suck it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22577530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamMistress/pseuds/okforthey
Summary: Michael had pretty well resigned himself to never seeing Alex Manes again, which meant that all the things he wanted to say to him, but couldn't write down or say over the phone, would be left unsaid. Then Alex comes back. And Liz comes back, and starts blowing the dust off old secrets and old wounds.
Relationships: Isabel Evans & Max Evans & Michael Guerin, Maria DeLuca & Alex Manes & Liz Ortecho, Max Evans/Liz Ortecho, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Noah Bracken/Isabel Evans
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54





	1. An Introduction of Circumstance

Michael had so studiously ignored the reality of Alex Manes’ return to Roswell that the sight of him, full up in fatigues, outside Michael’s Airstream was almost a physical blow. 

Alex looked good. He looked good, and he was _here_ , and _alive,_ and he was looking at Michael with a certain kind of pained resignation. Michael wanted to hate him for that, but he couldn’t muster the energy.

“Alex Manes,” Michael said, failing to scrub the exhaustion from his voice, “back from Baghdad.” 

It just figured that this would happen today, just as Max decided to break his own goddamn rules for someone he hadn’t seen in ten years. Even in the desert, it never rained but it poured.

“Who’s the kid?” Alex asked, nodding at Michael’s truck.

“Josie,” Michael said, reaching out with his mind and feeling the shape of her in the world, sitting (im)patiently behind the locked doors of his truck. “She’s — mine.”

“Your—?” Shock flickered across Alex’s face before he slammed it closed.

That look would stay with Michael, no matter how strongly he refused to feel guilty. It wasn’t like he had _asked_ Alex to stay away for ten years. If he’d come back, even once — well. He hadn’t, had he. 

Over Alex’s shoulder, Michael could see Jesse Manes loading things into a truck, corrupting what little sunlight made it through the storm clouds.

Alex knew, Michael thought. First hand, even. He would understand. And even if he didn’t, Michael wasn’t enough of a bastard to keep him in the dark about his kid.

Alex must have seen some of this on Michael’s face because he said, “has he been bothering you?”

“No,” Michael said, and it was even true. Jesse Manes didn’t talk to them, barely looked at them, but Michael felt his attention like a hammer waiting to drop. “Look, just — just come back.” His eyes flickered involuntarily to Jesse Manes and back. Alex, even when he was holding himself still and distant, was still so good to look at. “Alone.”

Alex didn’t move, didn’t change his expression, but something about him shifted. “I’ll come back,” he promised softly, and left.

It felt like he’d been ripped out of Michael’s hands.

\-----

It just figured. Michael had made Isobel happy by coming to the reunion, but he was rapidly undoing it all by asking her to use her powers on Liz. _Apparently_ , she didn’t do that anymore.

“You might have to,” Michael said. “She knows about us. _All_ of us.”

Isobel’s face fell into familiar worry lines. Michael sometimes wondered if she really didn’t remember anything from that night, especially when she refused to use her ability. He couldn’t think what else it might be, unless she had finally succumbed to suburban mania.

“You need to at least check and see if Max is right to trust her,” Michael pressed on. He refused to feel guilty about this. Max had been so _careless_.

Whatever lines Isobel drew in her head about using her powers, apparently making sure Liz Ortecho was trustworthy didn’t cross any of them. Or maybe she was thinking the same thing he was: that Liz would know, even if she left Roswell again, that they were aliens. That Josie was not yet ten years old, and particularly vulnerable. That she had promised him, she and Max both, that his kid would be safe, and that this would help keep that true.

Ales walked into the room.

Michael couldn’t say how he knew that, just that it was true. He didn’t need to turn to look and confirm it, but he did. There he was, Alex Manes, out of uniform and casual, moving smoothly enough to make you forget he was using crutches. 

Michael couldn’t understand it. He shouldn’t have been able to tell when Alex - specifically Alex - came in. Sure, he could tell whenever someone entered or exited or moved around in the room he was in - it changed the shape of the room - but he had to know someone well to be able to track them. Max, Isobel, Noah, he could keep tabs on them if he thought about it, and he’d spent so long following Josie around when she was learning to walk that it was second nature now. But this…

It was like, Alex walked into the room, and the room told Michael he was there.

“Alex is here,” Isobel said.

“Yeah,” Michael said, wanting a drink.

“Michael,” Isobel said, trying to catch his eye. “Have you talked to him? What did you say? What did _he_ say?”

Michael turned his head to avoid her gaze, but Isobel just moved with him, even when it meant she practically had to lie on the table.

“Stop it,” Michael hissed, and, “you’re causing a scene,” which usually worked. Not this time.

“Michael!” Isobel hissed back, “What did you say?”

“Nothing!” Michael snapped. Then softly, “his father was there.”

That made her stop. Michael hadn’t told either of them, Isobel or Max, what had happened in the shed. It’d been too much, what with it being the same day as Rosa… but they had wanted to know who Josie’s other father was, and how much he knew, and if he’d be involved, and what did Michael mean, he didn’t know? Max had had a fit of paternalism or brotherhood or whatever you want to call it, and been itching for a fight. Isobel had seen it as Alex abandoning them. Michael had had to do some fast talking to put the blame where it actually lay. 

“Well, what are you going to tell him?” Isobel demanded.

Michael shrugged. “The truth about where she came from. That’s all.”

Isobel wanted to keep at him over this, but she knew as well as he did that the reunion, growing increasingly crowded, was not the place to have an in-depth conversation about long-held secrets.

Michael turned away and found a drink, then another, and let the party spin around him. It was easy to smile at all these people with a drink in his hand, and easier to flirt with someone who wanted absolutely nothing from him.

It didn’t help him talk to Alex, and Michael couldn’t avoid him forever. Didn’t want to, either. Michael didn’t know what Alex wanted, and the only thing he knew how to say - had been bracing himself to say for ten years - wasn’t the sort of thing to be said in a crowded room. 

“What are you doing in that trailer?” Alex asked. He had an intense look around his eyes, and when Michael went to walk around him, put himself in the way.

Michael had forgotten what it was like to have those eyes on him, deep and focused. To have Alex’s attention on him was a heady thing, one that Michael wanted to keep and keep and keep. Ten years, he reminded himself. He was gone for ten years, and probably wouldn’t have come back if he’d had the option.

“Planning the violent overthrow of the government,” Michael said sarcastically. “I live there, Alex, what do you think?”

“Our engineers say you’re making meth in there.” Alex watched Michael’s face carefully as he said this. “They say the chemicals in the air around your trailer don’t come from anything else.”  
Outrage flared up in Michael, and he grabbed at it eagerly. “I have a kid in there --!”

Alex didn’t get less intense, exactly, but he did seem to relax. “That’s what I told them. They’re checking again.”

The outrage drained away as quickly as it had come, leaving streaks of cold behind. Michael smirked, ignoring the way it wasn’t up to his usual standards. “Good,” he said. “Give them a chance to learn something.”

Alex gave a ghost of a smile. To anyone else, he probably looked totally at ease, but Michael knew what Alex looked like when he was relaxed - had seen it with his own eyes, had made it happen - and it didn’t look like this.

What is it? Michael wondered. What _is_ it?

“How old is she?” Alex asked abruptly.

“Josie?” Michael asked.

Alex nodded, a sharp jerk of his head.

“She’s nine,” Michael said, and then, because Michael could be honest when it would hurt him, added, “last March,” and watched as Alex did the math.

“Her mother?” Alex asked after a long pause. His face had gone still, and he felt, suddenly, distant.

Michael shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” Alex said.

Michael turned his mouth upwards. It was the closest he could get to a smile right now. The thing Alex was sorry for, the thing everybody was sorry for, or pretending to be, had never happened. It was a waste of sorrow.

Michael wanted another drink, but his beer was empty. He also wanted out of the conversation, so he said, “I’m just gonna,” and held up his empty bottle in explanation.

“Maria’s waving,” Alex said, “I should-” he didn’t finish the sentence, just left, cane thumping against the ground as he left.

Watching him leave hurt about as much as Michael had expected it to, but it was an old hurt, went numb quickly. The beer he got helped a little. Whiskey would have helped more, or tequila, and acetone best of all, but he had a kid, and had to drive, (and all of those at home).

It worked pretty well until Max showed up with Liz. Michael slid out of the room, half thinking to go home, and half --

Alex was in a back room, looking up at an old picture of himself, lit up with the blue lights from the dance floor, near to glowing.

It was the easiest thing in the world, to smile at Alex when he looked like this. Michael offered a few words, a dismissal of their earlier conversation. It didn’t work, but Alex was looking at him properly now, and Michael was greedy for it. He wanted Alex to keep looking at him, wanted his attention, wanted his love, wanted him to have never left, wanted to have gone with him, anywhere, everywhere - 

Michael met Alex when he leaned forward, fell into the kiss, oh _finally_

Michael clutched at Alex, feeling his fingers dig into his skin, desperate, alive where they touched. Michael had forgotten he could feel this good, feel like this. It hurt; it hurt he felt so good. 

It didn’t last. Nothing ever did. Michael could only grab at whatever happiness was in reach, and pretend the memory wouldn’t burn him.

  
It wasn’t until Michael was home that he let himself feel the gentle way Alex had pulled away, the roughness in his voice when he promised, again, to come around in a few days. Michael had seen, earlier, the way Alex came alert at the mention of a threat from his father, and knew he was acting out of a sense of responsibility, misplaced though it was. But Josie was spending the night at Isobel and Noah’s, so there was no one around to hurt but himself if Michael pretended, just for the night, that Alex actually wanted to see him.


	2. A Long Overdue Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Alex have a little chat

When Alex came, Josie was at school. It was probably for the best, Michael figured. As much as he felt Alex had the right to know he had a daughter, the thought of telling one of the secrets he’d been keeping held a kind of nerve-wracking relief.

And he didn’t know how Alex would react. Michael hadn’t exactly taken the news of his impending fatherhood all that well, himself, and he’d had the excuse of both not knowing it was possible and actually being pregnant.

And now here Alex was, standing painfully upright in front of Michael, braced like he expected to be hit.

Or, Michael thought, looking again, more carefully, like he expected to be snuck up on and then hit. Michael knew it was probably the PTSD that did it, but it was enough to make him paranoid in turn, so he felt the world around them, just in case.

Nothing.

Foster Homestead Ranch was exactly as it should be, albeit emptier than he was used to. No one else was around.

Michael said as much, but Alex didn’t relax, just said, “good,” and then,

“What is it, Guerin?” Alex asked, and when Michael hesitated, trying to find the words, said, “has my father-?”

“No,” Michael said, because Jesse Manes hadn’t spoken to him or Josie, but, “well, yes,” it wasn’t like he had left them alone, either. Still, “that’s not what -” he stopped and took a deep breath.

“Do you remember, ten years ago,” Michael said, fishing out the picture of Jocelyn he kept in his wallet, “that thing I made you promise never to talk about?”

“Which thing?” Alex asked, and, fair. They had agreed they wouldn’t talk about any of it, but this was -

Michael really, really wished he had practiced what he was going to actually say, because what he said was:

“Y’know … in my truck … it was different … and I wouldn’t let you up…”

“Yes,” Alex interrupted, a little too loudly, “I remember.”

Michael waved the picture of Josie and said, “she was the result. Of that.” He cleared his throat. “Um. She’s,” he waved back and forth between them “ours.”

Alex’s face went blank with shock.

Michael watched him carefully, heart in mouth. He didn’t know what he’d do if Alex - he cut off the thought, and fought the urge to fidget. In his more rational moments, Michael knew Alex wouldn’t walk away from a kid who needed him, especially when he had first-hand knowledge of the exact nature of the threat. Michael wasn’t feeling entirely rational.

Alex lifted on hand as though to touch the photo, but stopped just shy of actually doing so. He was very pale.

“Would you like to sit down?” Michael asked.

* * *

Michael had packed away most of their stuff - especially his calculations - in anticipation of both the move and Alex’s coming. Josie had refused to let him take down her posters, though, so Alex was greeted by Moana and the Frozen sisters when he entered the Airstream.

Alex didn’t so much as twitch, just sat down heavily, face pale, eyes searching Michael’s face, like -

“I’m telling the truth!” Michael snapped.

“I know,” Alex said immediately, then looked surprised, like he hadn’t meant to say anything.

Michael waited, watching his face, pulse thrumming so fast he felt near to vibrating.

“I know,” Alex said again softer, more assured. “It’d be too easy to let me think what everyone else thinks, and too much work to do otherwise. And you wouldn’t lie about this.”

Michael let out a breath and sat down abruptly next to Alex on the couch. HIs head was spinning with relief; he felt something cool drain out of him - adrenaline, probably.

Alex didn’t say anything while Michael breathed through the dizziness. He didn’t touch him either, just waited patiently until Michael sat up and looked at him.

“Why tell me now?” Alex asked. His face was still and composed, but his eyes were bright.

“You’ve a right to know,” Michael said, feeling exposed. He added softly, “I wanted you to know.”

“You - really?” The disbelief in Alex’s voice was painful to hear. Michael couldn’t place the look on his face.

“Why is that so hard to believe?” Michael demanded.

“We barely even knew each other in high school -- it’s been ten years --”

“I’ve been waiting to tell you for ten years,” Michael snapped, cutting Alex off.

Alex wrestled something off his face, the same thing Michael couldn’t place. Whatever it was, it didn’t go quietly.

“Why didn’t you?” Alex asked.

“It wasn’t something I was gonna write down, or say over the phone,” Michael said. “Even if I had a way to do so. And then you didn’t come back.”

If Michael hadn’t been watching Alex so closely, he would have missed the flinch he made at that, it was so small.

“I would-” Alex cleared his throat. “I would have come back. If I had known.”

But he hadn’t known, and he hadn’t come back. Michael knew he shouldn’t hope, knew he should take Alex’s words as confirmation not to, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted Alex to stay, wanted him to want to stay, not just because he was a father and felt the responsibility, but because of Michael, too.

“And now that you do?” Michael asked.

Alex looked at him, and took Michaels hand in his own. Michael’s heart turned over in his chest. “I’m staying,” Alex said.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Meditations, by Marcus Aurelius.
> 
> I'm on tumblr at okforthey if you want to come chat!


End file.
